Memoire d'un Reve
by Droiture LeReve
Summary: Droiture LeReve is a transfer 7th year from America. He's cold and protective, and he's got a few secrets that Harry Potter is more than eager to find out. What is so special about this Daemon boy, and who is the mysterious girl he can't get off his mind?
1. Sandman

Note: With the new Harry Potter movie coming out in July (at least, here in the States), I thought it fitting to include my greatest character ever into the mix with a new fanfiction. I'm in the middle of writing a screenplay of this character's backstory that will be turned into a CGI movie if I ever learn how to use Blender 3-D on my dad's old PC in the basement. For now, however, I'm about 50 pages into the script and I'm officially on summer vacation, which means fanfiction like crazy until September again. I'm going to be a senior come September! I remember starting this account and going into the 8th grade, now I'm going into the 12th. Crazy how time flies, innit? Anyway, have fun with this new sucker. By the way, YES, this will be a HarryXDraco fic at the end. So if you don't like it, you can just click that nice little back button right now and get the hell out of here, because I am a very busy woman and I don't need to be dealing with little shites who get their thrills complaining and bitching about someone else's point of view. If it's constructive criticism, that's fine. I accept that. I encourage it! Please, by all means, help me become a better writer. Do NOT, however, outright flame me. I want literate, grammatically correct reviews or I won't even bother responding. Proofread that shit before you send it to me. I've been lenient in the past but it's a whole new me, now. Thank you and have a nice day.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it, but I do own Droiture LeReve and anything related to him. Steal him without my personal permission and I will personally hunt you down and beat you with a stick. I'm serious. I spent a lot of time creating his story and his character, and him being stolen is the last thing I want to have to deal with. So seriously. Keep your filthy hands off my Duatty. He's mine, bitches.

**Memoire d'un Reve**

**Chapter One: Sandman**

_"Harry."_

_"What?"_

_"Check out the pasty bloke who just stepped on."_

_"The long-haired one with the talons?"_

_"That's the one. Looks kinda sinister, doesn't he?"_

"You know, I can hear you two whispering about me, you filthy sots."

Harry and Ron shot up straight in their seats as the new teen sat down in their compartment. "My name is Droiture LeReve. I was born and raised in the United States, but I am from a French background. I've been home-schooled but dear old Mum decided she was done torturing me and here I am, living on my own in a shoddy apartment in London. Who are you two judgmental bastards?" Droiture snapped.

"I'm Harry Potter.... Raised in Surrey... This is Ron."

Ron waved nervously. "Ron Weasley...." he said quietly. "Sorry about the whispering, we weren't trying to be judgmental...."

"Yes, well, you should watch what you say around a Daemon. We can hear for many miles."

"You're a Daemon? I thought they were extinct!" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, they are. Sort of. I'm the last of my species. Don't tell anyone, I don't need media attention. Tell everyone it's a birth defect, okay? Mum didn't _choose_ to birth me, and I've kind of spent my life in hiding."

"Let me guess. Abusive, nasty woman? Father never did anything to stop it? Nasty relatives? Perhaps a religious zealot for a mum?" Harry deadpanned.

"Exactly. Well, my step-dad anyway. My real dad is the Devil, literally, as you could probably already guess. How'd you know?"

"My aunt and uncle are the same way. Well, sans the religious part. Vernon and Petunia."

"They even _sound _like nasty people. Well, I guess we're on the same boat then. Don't your mum and dad do anything to stop it?" Droiture asked Harry.

"Both dead."

"Ouch." Droiture said, then lowered his sharp acid-colored eye down to his book.

"How'd you get those scars?" Ron asked, referring to the scars bisecting both of Droiture's eyes and giving him a sinister Glasgow smile.

"Born with them. They're tribal birthmarks. Got them all over my bloody body." Droiture shifted his leg and the part of his pants that seemed to be an open fly shifted in a funny way.

"Wha--"

"Born with that too. I'm technically naked from the waist down right now."

"So your zipper--"

"Tattooed and pierced in that fashion."

Both Harry and Ron impulsively grabbed their crotches protectively, staring in horror at the zipper-pull piercing penetrating the tip of what was implied to be this strange newcomer's _penis. _

"I can tell you're scared. Also, if you haven't noticed. I've got invisible feet, tri-fingered hands, pointed ears, a mouth that bisects my head, and all the markings that mark me as a Daemon."

"That's... terrifying but fascinating at the same time. I'm not sure which is worse."

"I get that a lot." This entire conversation took place and not once did Droiture look up from his book. He flipped his hair, and the front part flipped behind his ear, revealing his right eye to be completely and totally blind. Milky white in color.

The train stopped and Hogwarts students began filing off. Droiture hung in the shadows, blending in with them. Harry and Ron were able to find him only by his single glowing acid-tinted eye. "Droiture, the school is this way. You're a transfer 7th year right? You'll need to be Sorted."

"I've heard about the Sorting." Droiture's voice rang in Harry and Ron's heads. "I suspect I'll be put in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but we'll see."

"Why those two?" Ron asked.

"Because, you curious little snot, I'm inherently evil and excruciatingly intelligent." Droiture explained, stepping out of the shadows in a way that suggested he was actually part of the shadows themselves.

When standing at full height, he was much taller than either Harry or Ron, standing at 6'7". He was also extremely skinny, almost skeletal. His green mesh top and black Torque vest didn't help his appearance, nor did his legs, which appeared to be black baggy pants with green futuristic designs including rectangles, dots, lines, and arrows that seemingly mocked his lack of feet. His black hair reached all the way down to his bottom, so long he could sit on it if he chose to. The front was shorter, but still long enough that it covered his right eye completely, obscuring his blindness from view. His mouth was curved permanently in a twisted, evil Glasgow smile lined with rows and rows of sharp, deadly, shark-like white fangs. The fangs were sinisterly tinted pink with old blood. In his right claw, he held a cage with a pitch-black owl contained within. In his left, he had the handle of a cart with the rest of his school items on it. His wand, a black one with a green stripe spiraling along the length and an emerald at the base of the handle, lay strapped to his waist. His appearance was evil at heart, and one who was raised from a wealthy background.

He ominously reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy for some reason. Nasty, distrustful, suspicious of the world around him, wealthy.... parents who didn't care quite as much as they should.... In desperate need of a true friend.... Forced by the world into a position he found repulsive....

Harry blinked and shook those last few thoughts out of his head as the carriage arrived to take them to Hogwarts.

The Sorting didn't take too long. There weren't as many first-years as usual. Droiture got a special little entrance.

"This year at our beloved Hogwarts, we have a special student. He is a transfer from America. His name is Droiture LeReve, and this year will be his first and last at Hogwarts, as he is a seventh-year. Let us place the Sorting Hat upon his head and see what his fate tells."

The hat was placed on Droiture's head.

_"Oh! I haven't seen a Daemon in many years. Many years indeed."_

_"Get on with it, you bloody hat. Put me somewhere my talents lie."_

_"Oh, this is difficult. I don't normally have this much difficulty placing a Daemon. Usually you all end up in Slytherin... You seem to lean towards a Slytherin outlook on life, yet your intelligence is Ravenclaw-superb. However, you seem brave and loyal to those who you trust, if any. Then again, your inherent magic isn't quite as strong as someone's who is full blood Devil or Human. Where to place you? Where to-- Ohhh! What is this bit, here?"_

_"You stay out of there, you bloody fucking hat! Those memories aren't for you to see!!"_

_"Someone worth fighting for? Worth dying for? You'd brave a thousand perils to bring her back, wouldn't you? Because you loved her, didn't you? Her and only her? Poor little Daemon..."_

_"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"_

_"Now, now, Daemon boy, that's no way to speak to an old hat like me. Haven't you ever been taught to respect your elders?"_

_"This is a violation of my privacy! You have no right to intervene in those sacred memories! They are mine!"_

_"I know exactly where to place you, my Daemon friend."_

"Fucking hat!" Droiture snapped aloud.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The call rang loud and clear through the Great Hall.

Droiture roared and threw the hat to the ground at the cheering of the Gryffindors, but stomped his way over to the table anyway. Harry patted him on the back. "Why so glum, Droiture? Now you're with us!"

"That fucking hat invaded my most cherished memory. The only thing I could truly call my own and that _motherfucking chunk of fabric ripped right through it._" Droiture said, seething.

"Well that's what the Sorting Hat does. It pokes around in your brain and figures out where to put you. It's kind of the thing's job."

"That I can deal with! Poking around a little, seeing my talents, predicting my success, but I can NOT forgive it for invading my memories. That memory was mine and mine alone." Droiture's voice was quivering, as if he were about to burst into tears.

"You... feel rather violated, don't you?" Hermione asked, placing her hand on Droiture's shaking arm. Droiture's visible eye was glassy and wide, staring at his hands as if he'd just ripped the throat out of.... _her_ once again.

"I've never felt so alone.... All the water in the world won't make me feel clean again...." Droiture let out a sob and buried his head in his arms and cried. It was the second time in his life he'd ever truly cried, the first being when _she _died. When he _killed _her out of blindness and anger, by accident.

Hermione, who before this moment hadn't yet been introduced to the strange young man sobbing before her, took Droiture in her arms and held him there as he cried corrosive tears onto her shirt, burning holes in the fabric. Hermione winced as some of the acid blistered her skin, but she didn't pull back. Droiture vaguely wondered why she hadn't yelped in pain yet.

"There, there, Droiture, was it? No need to cry. I'll be your friend. You don't have to be sad anymore, okay?"

Droiture seemed shocked. He pulled back, tears leaving burning trails down his cheeks, looking Hermione straight in the eye with a terrified, hurt expression on his face, and ran for it, heading towards the Gryffindor tower.

"Droiture, wait! Oh!" Hermione seemed hurt as Droiture ran off. "Why did he run from me?"

"Think about it, Hermione. He's never had friends before, from what we heard. He's probably only used to being used and thrown away. When you said you'd be his friend, he probably thought you weren't someone to be trusted because that's what he's learned that word means." Harry said through a mouthful of pudding.

"Oh, should I go talk to him?"

"Let him go until after dinner, at least. I think he needs a little time to cool off. From what we saw on the train, he's got a lot of anger boiling inside him. I think all he needs is a healthy way to get that anger out."

"Poor guy... he must not have had an easy life...."

"From what we heard, his mother was an abusive religious zealot and his step-father was a cold, emotionally distant bastard." Ron mumbled over chicken.

"Didn't he have anyone to turn to?"

"I don't think so, no. He never mentioned anything."

Draco Malfoy came strolling up to the Gryffindor table.

"What had we there? Even a Daemon's afraid of the Mudblood. What did you do, Granger? _Bore _him until he ran off?" He laughed.

"Suck it, Malfoy, and get out of here. Droiture's not in his right mind right now." Harry snapped.

"Has he ever been?" Malfoy retorted, grinning.

"You know, when I met Droiture, he reminded me of you in a way. Cold, suspicious of the world, put upon by society, a shell of a man who could be so much more if he merely stepped outside the little bubble of safety he created for himself," Harry said calmly, looking Malfoy straight in the eye. ". . .and actually trusted someone besides himself." Harry finished, to Malfoy's stunned expression.

"What are you talking about, Potter?"

"Think about it, Draco. You get off poking fun at us Gryffindors because it makes you feel important. Like your life has some sort of meaning. You threaten us and taunt us, but you never do anything. I think the truth is, you're scared. You've never had a true friend in your life, so you use them and throw them away before they have the chance to do it to you. You create this whole little fantasy world inside your head where you're so important and everyone bows to your will, when in reality you're no better than the rest of us, and you're terrified to face that fact."

Malfoy's legs were shaking so badly he collapsed into the seat Droiture previously occupied. He had the same terrified, stunned expression that Droiture had mere moments before.

"Potter, I...." Malfoy's voice trailed off, and he blinked twice, sending small tears down his face. He couldn't find the strength to make his legs move. Finally, he wobbled from the chair and stumbled off silently. Harry stared at him as he left.

"Wow, Harry. You just broke down every semblance of meaning in that boy's life. How do you feel about that?" Another Gryffindor asked, a smile on his face.

"Like a weight has been lifted off _his _chest." Harry answered, eating more chicken.

_Dear Annabella,_

_I was Sorted at Hogwarts today. I'm in Gryffindor. Weird, isn't it? The Sorting Hat said that usually Daemons end up in Slytherin. I guess I'm just special. I don't think I like the Sorting Hat at all, though. He probed a bit too deep in my head and found some memories I wanted to carry myself. I guess I can't blame him, I mean, he is nothing but enchanted fabric and stitching. I wonder, if you were still here, would you be in Gryffindor, too? You were always so brave and so loyal. Oh, but you're a bit too young for Hogwarts, still, aren't you? That's right, you'd only be turning ten next week. You need to be eleven to be a First-year. But boy, how time flies. It's only been three years, but in those three short years, I've learned so much and been through so much more. I love you so much, my dearest Annabella, and I always will. _

_A Lion's Proper Goodbye-_

_Droiture LeReve_


	2. Ready or Not

Note: Here we are with Chapter Two. In each chapter, I'll end the chapter with Droiture's letter to Annabella. I'm not going to reveal who Annabella is just yet, but just know that she's vital to the story, and that she was a major part of Droiture's life, but isn't anymore. That's all the hint I'm giving you, and already I've said too much. ON WITH THE SHOW!

I do not own Harry Potter or the franchise. J.K. Rowling does. I do, however, own Droiture and HIS franchise, even though it's not more of a franchise as it is a.... vague concept, if you will. Whatever. Don't steal him.

**Chapter Two: Ready or Not**

Hermione knocked on Droiture's door, the door to the boy's dorm in the Gryffindor tower. "Droiture, please come out. I didn't mean what I said. Well, I _meant _it, of course, but I think you may have taken it the wrong way...." Droiture opened the door.

"I knew what you meant, girl, and I apologize for my reaction. I've never had a friend who was female before and who wasn't related to me. With everything that's happened in my life, I got frightened." Droiture admitted with a low voice. "Please, if we'll go to the common room, I'll prepare some tea, girl."

"Oh... okay. My name is Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"Sure. Droiture LeReve is my name."

"Oh, you're French?"

"From a French background, yes. My primary language is French, though as you can tell, I speak British English fluently. I'm also able to imitate an American accent for the sake of conformity, though I'm afraid I'm not too fond of it. I was raised in America, in a rural town in the middle of bloody nowhere."

"That must have been hard."

"Oh, you have no idea. Mum was a religious zealot, I'm her illegitimate Daemon child, that's all I'm saying."

"Goodness!" Hermione exclaimed as Droiture conjured up a tray of tea. "That must have been terrible! And I thought I had it bad with dentists for parents."

"Dentists? Ha! Try a leader of a religious cult and the Devil himself as your parentage then talk to me about bad." Droiture half-joked. "Well, at any rate, the bitch is dead, so I don't have to deal with her stupid abuse ever again...." Droiture muttered into his tea almost sadistically.

"How did she die?"

"Barbed wire in a very unfortunate place." Droiture said, his claw tinkling over the teacup as he tapped his fingertips across it. He smirked.

"You don't seem very remorseful about her death."

"Remorse? Why would I feel remorse? All she ever did was hit me, beat me, abuse me, call me names, work me like an animal, and for what cause? Nothing. She tried to squash the Devil out of me, but she only managed to bring it out in full. And when _she _got in the way, well.... I...." Droiture fell silent, staring at his tea as if he could see into the past. In his mind's eye, he could see a beautiful, jade-eyed, red-haired little girl frolicking in the grass, tumbling around and getting herself covered in pollen and dandelion fluff.... Laughing a laugh only a carefree child can....

It took Hermione placing her hand on his before he snapped out of it and realized he had burned a hole in his leaking teacup with his corrosive tears.

"Droiture, I can understand if you don't want to tell me the whole story now. I don't mind one bit. We all have secrets we'd like to keep hidden."

Droiture was silent for a long time as he stared at his teacup leaking into his lap. "....The blind eye sees only the past, while the crystal emerald sees only the future, and neither are focused on the here and now."

"Excuse me?"

"It's an old prophecy from my town. The blind eye sees only the past, while the crystal emerald sees only the future, and neither are focused on the here and now. I think it's talking about me."

"Why is that?"

Droiture pushed his hair away from his right eye, revealing it's blindness. "In this eye, I see memories. My own memories. Memories of days gone by, when I could look at _her _and feel content with myself. Like I could take all the beatings in the world if it meant _she _were safe. You, my friend, remind me of _her _in many ways. Bright eyes. Intelligent. Aware of what's going on around you. Caring, and gentle. Beautiful.... Undeserving of a fate that left you stuck with a mess like me." Droiture stood up and looked out the window. Rain pelted the glass, and the sky was dark. ". . . .Undeserving of the fate you're given... why? Why did I strike that day? I'd lived for fourteen years under her.... under her wrath. Yet Envy took me over.... consumed me.... Excuse me, Hermione, I've said too much. Please, I need rest."

Hermione was almost in tears, watching Droiture struggle internally with himself. She nodded slowly, rising to hold him close for a moment before scurrying off. Droiture stared at his own feet (or lack thereof) for a moment before trudging back to his bed. Hermione burst out of the tower just as Harry and Ron were heading up. "Oh, Harry, Ron, it's terrible! Droiture's in so much pain! He was crying and saying something about blind eyes and his mother and some mysterious woman. I don't know much, but he seemed to truly care for some woman who isn't around anymore."

"Well, at least we're getting to the bottom of things. I say we go through some Muggle archives and try and dig some stuff up. You know, just to get a better grasp on what he's gone through. I'm not saying we dig into his private life, but we should at least do some research on this crazy religion he keeps ranting about." Ron suggested.

"Good suggestion. I'll get on that tomorrow. Harry, you can enchant a computer in here, right? Do you think you could network some information? I mean, normally electronics don't work here, but with the proper spells...." Hermione asked.

"No problem. Ron, if you could try and weasel it out of Droiture what the name of his hometown was, we'd have a much easier time."

"No problem mate." Ron said with a salute.

"Good then. We'll get started tomorrow. Droiture looked exhausted." Hermione said with concern.

"Right." Harry agreed. Then his face fell. "But what if he thinks we're trying to pry? He'll never trust us again." He said.

"Mate, I don't think he trusts us anyway. All humans probably look like manipulative, cruel, sneaky bastards to him." Ron said.

"Then let's not pry for now. We'll put it off. We want Droiture to feel as if Hogwarts is his home. It would be cruel otherwise." Harry said. "The poor guy's been through a lot. Let's at least help him fit in, first. Then we'll be all over him. I feel bad for him. It's saddening that a mother could create a child and then harden him like that. We need to get inside his shell."

Droiture sobbed as he heard the entire conversation with his heightened sense of hearing. Did they care that much about someone they only just met, that they'd do all that just to help him?

_Dearest Annabella,_

_Today I found out that humans aren't all bad. The others in Gryffindor seem to want to... befriend me. I can't imagine why. It's completely foreign to me. If you were here, you could tell me. You could guide me. Alas, we're separated for eternity. 'Till death do us part? 'Till death do us wake. I don't understand the feelings I'm feeling, but they all revolve around you. My dearest Annabella, how can I awaken you again? I feel Hogwarts may have the answer. Through their spells and their witchcraft, I may find the answer that alchemy could not give me. I could turn lead to gold, but I could not put a soul back into a lifeless shell. It has baffled me, infuriated me for three long, arduous years. But here, where magic rules, and wizardry is the dominance, I may find my answer to bring you back to me once again. _

_Everlasting love,_

_Droiture LeReve_


	3. Here I Come

Note: that last chapter was quite a bit shorter than the first. Well, get used to it, because I'm going to Maine for a week with no internet, or very limited internet. So yeah. New chapter! Droiture's intentions are becoming clear....

I don't own Harry Potter, only Droiture and his ilk.

**Chapter Three: Here I Come**

Droiture stumbled on his way into Potions class, tearing his leg on a nail sticking out. He let out a strangled sound and dropped to stitch himself back together as a black tar-like substance oozed from the wound. Professor Snape looked down at him scornfully.

"Your first day, and already you're tripping over yourself. I'd watch myself, Mr LeReve. Failure is not tolerated in my classroom."

Droiture glared at him. "Funny. Mummy always used to say that too." He got up, took his needle and thread with him, and sat in his seat to continue.

"Today's lesson is on a Necrosis potion. Does anyone know what that is?"

Immediately Hermione's hand shot up.

"Anyone besides Miss Granger? No? Fine. Your answer, Granger?"

"A Necrosis potion is a potion that, if poured down the throat of the deceased, will give the corpse the ability to walk on it's own and perform very basic functions for a short time, but eventually it does wear off." Droiture's eyes shot open.

"Did you just say it gives the dead life?" He asked.

"Well, sort of. They're zombies, really. Un-dead. But I suppose...."

Droiture began shivering, acid streaming from his tear ducts. He got up and danced around the room, laughing maniacally. "So all I need is an endless supply of Necrosis potion and all my dreams, all my hopes and aspirations, they'll all come true! Annabella! My sweet Annabella!!"

"Mr LeReve, sit in your seat, now, or I will exempt you from the project and you will fail." Snape snapped angrily. Droiture dazedly returned to his seat, smiling widely.

"Now, as I was saying..... The Necrosis potion takes six months to brew properly, so this will be your project for the semester. Pair off and get to work. The instructions are in your textbooks, page 439." Hermione scooted her chair closer to Droiture.

"Why did you start dancing?" She asked.

"Right, I haven't told you. Well, it involves a sweet little six-year-old girl, an angry Daemon, and the Sin of Envy. I won't go into it fully now, but I will say that this potion is all I need to bring her back to me forever!"

"Annabella.... was she your daughter?" Hermione asked, knowing from her research that Daemons lived at the very least three times as long as humans did, and therefore Droiture, who looked to be (and unbeknownst to Hermione, actually was) 17, could very well be in his mid thirties or forties.

"What? No, no, of course not. I'm 17. Having a six year old daughter would be biologically impossible. Even Daemons can't father children at 11 years old. No, no, she was something more. It's hard to explain now, but I promise in time you'll figure it out. You're an intelligent girl. Come on, then. Let's get this potion made before Batman over there decides to come hovering over our shoulders." Hermione and Harry let out a snort of laughter, while Ron was baffled.

"Batman?"

"Muggle thing, Ron, never mind it." Harry said.

"Nanananananana nanananananana Potions! Potions!" Hermione joked, and Droiture laughed, his forked tongue revealed poking through his pink teeth.

"Right, right, potions, potions. Now we have to get this done, because this is the potion that will change my life! I need this, Hermione, you don't understand."

"You're right, Droiture, I don't understand. However, I can see that this is very important to you. Therefore I will comply with your wishes and let's get this potion started right. Everyone else is just starting as well, we might as well keep up with them, right? No sense getting a bad grade."

"Fuck the bad grade, grades are bollocks compared to what this potion is going to do for me!" Droiture exclaimed, scouring over the instructions. He glowered when he discovered they weren't in French. However, he realized it would have to do and put his wand away, as he was about to translate the page in front of him before remembering that Hermione read English. Droiture himself could read English just fine, but when reading a set of instructions, he preferred French. He'd have to listen to his lab partner on this one.

"Okay, it says to add three crushed scarab beetles, then drain the liquid."

Droiture followed Hermione's instructions to the letter, and his eyes lit up when his concoction turned the precise color of sea-foam green described in the textbook. Even his blind eye seemed to shimmer for a moment. He pushed his hair out of his face, to avoid getting it in the liquid, and rolled his good eye when several of the students gasped at his blind eye. He pinned his hair back with a rather old, and feminine, pair of pink butterfly hair clips.

"Yes, my right eye is blind, I know. It's my eye. Stop staring at me, you bloody gits, and get back to work before Professor Snape has your hides." Droiture snapped at them, stirring the potion.

"Alright, alright, students. You're done for the day. Class dismissed." Snape said. "Be sure to come back tomorrow to add ingredients." He said, hovering in the corner as the students filed out. "Mr LeReve, if I may speak for a moment...?"

"Yes, Professor?" Droiture said through gritted fangs.

"Your little outburst earlier cost you 50 points from Gryffindor, I hope you understand that."

"Don't worry, I intend to make back those points a hundred-fold." Droiture said.

"I've heard you can be rather.... impulsive."

"I've done a few things I regret, yes. Why, has my step-father contacted you?"

"Why yes, he has. He told me to be on the look-out for you. I hope you'll prove him wrong."

"I intend to fully."

With that, Droiture turned sharply and left.

Hermione caught up with him after class. "Droiture, may I ask why you have pink butterfly hair clips?"

Droiture fingered the object pinning his hair back. "It belonged to _her._" He simply said.

"Annabella?"

". . . Yes." Droiture refused to speak after that, even when Hermione pressed further. Soon enough, she gave up and Droiture took the pin out of his hair, and put it back in the pocket of his vest. Contrary to school rules, Droiture refused to wear the school robes that would cover his normal outfit, because he said "I have a reason for wearing what I do, and though the school may not agree with it, I have a right to freedom of expression and you will not infringe upon that right." No one bothered saying different. It was just too much work to argue with the young Daemon.

Droiture placed his hand over his breast pocket, clutching at it until his claws threatened to tear through the fabric. He let go then, and laid down on the sofa. His school work forgotten, he instead stared at the fireplace and reveled in lost memories.

_". . .And the littlest... mermaid.... lived....happ- hap-ee...."_

_"Happ-i-ly, Anna, sound it out, ok?"_

_"Happily... ever... after... with the prince! Droiture! I did it! I read a whole book all by myself!"_

_"Good work, Anna! I say this calls for ice cream!"_

_"Yay! Ice cream, ice cream!"_

_"No, no, young dear, you'll ruin your dinner."_

_"But Droiture said I could! I read a book all by myself, Momma!"_

_"Don't listen to Droiture. He is a Daemon and is only trying to warp your mind."_

_"But Droiture said! He said!"_

_"No!"_

Droiture snapped out of it and realized the common room had quickly filled up, and the first years were staring at him. "Oh, shove off, you lot. Can't you see I'm busy being nostalgic?" He snapped. The first years ran off, scared.

_Dear Annabella, _

_I started making a Necrosis potion today. Do you know what that means? It means you and I will be together again, love. I can finally see your smile again. I am so sorry for what I did, but you already know that, right? I hope you do. I hope you do ever so much. I'm paired with a girl who reminds me much of you. She's beautiful and gentle, and seems to truly see the deep-laden good in me, if there is truly any left. I think perhaps she is your reincarnation, in a way. Except reincarnation is not perhaps the proper word. She was born before you.... But in any case, getting to know her may be my last chance at redemption for my past misdeeds. The other students think me odd for using pink barrettes, but I don't care. If I have anything that can remind me of you, it's those clips. Every day you wore them in your soft, orange hair. You always looked so cute with your curly hair, pinned up like that. It saddens me that I wasn't able to acquire a lock before... well, you know. All of your beautiful hair is probably gone now. Perhaps I will give a clip to Hermione, as a gesture of friendship. _

_Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,_

_Droiture LeReve_


	4. Hide Yourself

Note: MYSTERIES ARE BEING REVEALED! Nah, not really. I kind of made it obvious. Anyway, I'm not good at writing mysteries so please bear with me. Droiture seemed to be realllllyyyy close to this Annabella.....

If you haven't noticed, I've been using lines from a German metal band, Oomph! as chapter titles, only translated into English. Sandman is from Sandmann, with the extra "n" included, Ready or Not is Augen Auf, and Here I Come is also from Augen Auf, translated to Ich Komme. Hide Yourself translates into German as... Zieg dich nicht, I think? I'll have to see the lyrics again. But it's also from the song Augen Auf. Oomph! is a great band and everyone should listen to them. And yes, the "!" is part of the band name.

As for my made up spells, "Somes induviae" is "Body Clothes" in Latin, according to my computer, and "Reverto ut Somes' is "return to body". I make up stuff. Leave me alone.

I do not own Harry Potter. Do not sue me. Also don't own Oomph!. Only Droiture and Annabella and anything related to THEM and only them.

**Chapter Four: Hide Yourself**

"Today in Transfiguration, we will learn how to transfigure parts of our own bodies and back. I see Droiture already knows this lesson." McGonagall said, pointing to Droiture's fabric legs.

"Actually, Professor, I was born like this."

"Oh, really? That must have been difficult."

"I had to stay home from school every time it rained because when I get wet, I get useless." Droiture explained.

"Well, today we're all going to learn to transfigure our legs into pants, just like Droiture's legs. Only Droiture, you're going to learn to turn them into human legs and back."

"No problem, then."

"The incantation is '_Somes induviae!' _Say it with me!"

_"Somes induviae!" _The class shouted, and their legs all turned to pants.

"Now, Droiture, and the rest of you, to turn your legs back, the incantation is _'Reverto ut Somes'!" _Say it now!"

_"Reverto ut Somes!" _Everyone's legs were human. Droiture looked down and realized he was nude from the waist down and quickly reversed the spell, but the whole class had already seen him and laughed.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit...." He mumbled under his breath, his skin flushing a deep shade of blue with embarrassment.

"Mr LeReve, did you say the spell incorrectly?" McGonagall asked, trying not to laugh.

"No, I said it right. The problem is.... well, never mind it. Anyway, stop laughing at me!" He roared the last bit to the class, his teeth bared. The class shut up. "Thank you." Droiture said mildly.

"Alright, well practice that for the rest of the class. Droiture, if you don't mind, here." McGonagall threw Droiture a pair of gym shorts she transfigured.

"Thank you." Droiture quickly forced the shorts on over his legs and practiced the spell.

After class McGonagall let him keep the shorts for future classes. Hermione caught up to him and laughed.

"That was pretty funny, back there, you know."

"I know. That's what humiliates me. The entire class saw my cock! I mean, they see it every day, it's hanging right there, but.... It wasn't tattooed anymore! It looked.... odd! God, I'm keeping these shorts forever." He said.

Malfoy shoved Droiture from behind, pushing him to the ground. "You must think pretty highly of yourself, exposing it to the class, Gryffindork!" He jeered.

"That was.... the biggest fucking mistake you could have ever made." Droiture said, sinking into the shadows. He grew tall, a black figure in the darkness. He shot out a tendril of darkness, pinning Draco against the opposite wall. _"You want to make fun of me now, blondie?" _He threatened.

"Droiture, put him down!" Harry shouted. Droiture dropped Malfoy. "Droiture, it's not worth it. He does this to everyone. Draco, go, shoo. Before you anger him anymore." Harry said. Malfoy scrambled away.

"Harry, control that beast!" he called as he ran.

"Did he just call you Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Long story. Tell you later. Anyway, Droiture, you could have gotten in huge trouble for that!"

"He shoved me. It hurt." Droiture's voice rang out in Harry's head.

"I know, but killing him won't solve anything. If killing him did anything useful, I'd have killed him myself by now." Harry admitted.

"Right..." Droiture came out from his shadowy state.

"Don't worry, I'll tell Draco off later. We need a few ground rules anyway...." Harry mumbled before wandering off.

"What's with him?" Droiture asked, a bit of an American accent pushing through.

"Haven't the foggiest!" Hermione said. "Come on, let's get to lunch before all the good food's gone." Hermione innocently took Droiture's hand, but immediately he felt a strange sort of warmth envelop him, a warmth he hadn't felt in three long years. He smiled inwardly, his outer face still a twisted, evil grin that can't ever go away. Even when he's glaring angrily, he never frowns. He can't. His mouth is stuck into a permanent, twisted grin of hatred and insanity.

_Perhaps.... she is the one.... to save me from myself.... _Droiture thought to himself idly, watching Hermione pull him into the Great Hall.

"Hermione...." He whispered under his breath.

"Yes?" She replied.

"If you don't mind.... here." Droiture placed an object in her hand before scrambling off to the Tower.

Hermione looked down at her hand.

In it lay a pink butterfly hair clip.

_Dear Annabella,_

_I did it. I gave Hermione one of your hair clips. I hope this means she'll befriend me now. I truly think she is a lot like you. It may be selfish, but all I want is you, and I can find that in her, I suppose. She's the only one who I really feel I can connect with on a personal level around this hell-hole. She comes from a non-magical background as well, and I hope that means she can connect with me. I just want any sort of reminder of you, my love. You were so good, so perfect, and now that perfection is gone. Perhaps I'm being selfish? I don't care. My love for you spans lifetimes, universes. Every star in the sky serves to remind me of your eyes. Every wave in the ocean brings your songs to my heart. Is it wrong, saying this? Does it make me a bad person? I know this sort of thing is generally looked down upon..... but I can't help it. You're so perfect... I suppose that's why I hated you. _

_Golden Greed,_

_Droiture LeReve_


	5. How Much Do You Have?

Note: Chapter five. I'm trying to get as much uploaded as possible before I leave for Maine and have to hitch a ride with my cousin to the town library if I want internet. In fact, Im typing this from the road somewhere in New Hampshire from Massachusetts. Anyway, Chapter five is about.... well you'll see. This chapter's title comes from Sandmann, and it translates to German as "Wieviel Hast Du?" Also, Remember in the first chapter I said this would end up a HarryXDraco story? Well, it still is, but the story focuses largely on Droiture, so Harry and Draco are only seen mainly in the background as comic relief. Sorry....

One more thing. This chapter is mostly filler. Just warning you now.

I don't own Harry Potter. I own Droiture. BTW, From now on I'm going to refer to Droiture's story as Memoire d'un Reve, because that's also the title of his original backstory I'm writing for him. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter, but I do own Memoire d'un Reve. Ok?

**Chapter Five: How Much Do You Have?**

Hermione began wearing Annabella's clip every day in honor of her newfound friend. Droiture would smile when he saw her. It reminded him of Annabella so much.

"Droiture, I want to thank you for giving this clip to me. It must have meant a lot to you." Hermione said during Potions.

Droiture shook his head. "Don't mention it. It was the least I could do. You've shown me true friendship here, in a new place, and I couldn't thank you more than by giving you something I've kept close to my heart all these years. You and Anna are so alike, and when I look at you, wearing her pin, it, I don't know... It makes me feel good, for the first time in a long time. I hope we can be friends."

"Of course, Droiture! Whatever would make you think I'd say no?"

"I don't know. Not a lot of people would be caught dead associating with a Daemon. We're usually bad, bad news."

"Droiture, I don't care if you're a Daemon, a werewolf, or a a bloody _Yeti_. As long as you're still you, right? _What_ you are does not change _who_ you are. It wouldn't make sense to discriminate against you because of your race. It's what's on the inside that counts, and inside I can tell you're just like us. You have feelings, and problems, and you have a secret, just like us all. Being a Daemon does not change who you are inside."

"Thank you Hermione. Hearing those words means the world to me. My mother never believed things like that. She always thought that because I was a Daemon, I was evil, and I was going to kill the world or something. I could never get her to see. Annabella stayed by me through thick and thin. She was my best friend, my confidant, the only love I felt in this world, the only escape from the hate and the suffering....."

"I think I understand now. Annabella.... was your sister, wasn't she?"

"Correct. The most perfect, beautiful sister in the world.... and I hated her. Mum loved her more, gave her love, and for years she seemed to love it. Then one day, as I lay broken and bleeding, she came to me and said, 'Brother, I don't want to live a lie anymore. I love you more than Mummy. I pretend to love her, but I can't stand how she treats you. I want it to end.' From that moment on she and I were inseparable. But one day.... I...." Droiture fell silent, and looked down into his potion, which had turned a sickly vomit color. Droiture's pale blue skin turned slightly the same color. "Please don't make me re-live it."

"I'm sorry to pry." Hermione said.

"It's no trouble."

". . . She'd be turning ten years old today. . . " Droiture mumbled.

"I'm sorry." Hermione replied. Droiture was silent, stirring the potion the way the textbook said to.

"Class dismissed." Snape said, and the students began packing up and putting away their textbooks.

"Droiture, do you think you and I could go to Hogsmeade sometime? Perhaps get some coffee and just talk?"

Droiture's evil grin twitched and turned more warm. "I'd like that, Hermione, very much."

"Alright! How is tonight?"

"Tonight is perfect." Droiture said. "Ah, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you again." Droiture walked off. Suddenly a bucket of water dropped from above, soaking him and causing him to collapse under his own weight, as his legs became limp and useless and his wand rolled away. "Fuck!" he shouted.

"Droiture!"

Draco Malfoy laughed as his little prank worked. "Yes! I knew that would work! I knew I could-- ow, ow ow ow!"

Harry had appeared and dragged Draco off by his ear, lecturing him. "How many times have I told you not to bother Droiture? He _will _kill you, given the chance, and I don't want to lose--" Harry trailed off as he dragged the blonde away.

"Fucking kid is going to die." Droiture glared at Draco.

"Calm down, Droiture, you'll be alright. Madame Pomfrey knows a good drying spell. Come on to the hospital wing." Hermione said, sort of half-lifting Droiture over her shoulder and dragging him off.

"Wait, my bloody wand!"

Droiture reached down and picked it up.

"Now come on." Hermione said.

Madame Pomfrey seemed a bit confused as to why a sopping-wet Daemon was dragging himself into the hospital wing, Hermione right behind him, hands out to support him if he should fall. "Madame Pomfrey, Can you dry Droiture? Draco Malfoy dumped a bucket of water on him, and until he dries, he can't walk properly."

Droiture looked so pathetic, sopping wet on the floor. Even his twisted grin seemed to only convey a sense of pity. He was tired and just couldn't bear to drag himself along anymore. He collapsed, still conscious but angry and depressed.

"Oh, goodness, of course I can! Come on, then, Mr LeReve, I'll have you dried out in a jiffy." Madame Pomfrey lifted Droiture with her wand and plopped him down on the bed before drying him out with a well-done charm.

"Ahhh, thank you, Madame. Being wet is not something I'm fond of, obviously. How may I repay you?"

"No need, Droiture, no need. But, if I may," Madame Pomfrey started, flicking her wand at Droiture's legs, "You should be waterproof."

"Ah? Ah! Thank you! Why did I never think to do that? Ah, that makes perfect sense! Thank you, Madame Pomfrey, thank you." Droiture stood up and walked around. He skipped awkwardly out of the hospital wing.

"So, Droiture, what's it like trying to walk without legs?" Hermione asked him later. "I mean, obviously, you've got legs, but they're.... odd. Oh, please don't take offense, I don't mean--"

"I know what you mean. To be honest, it's quite awkward. It's kind of like walking on rods stuck up inside a pair of pants. You know how pants are usually floppy and don't hold weight? Well, stick some support rods in there and that's kind of what it feels like to walk. For the first eight years of my life, I didn't bother walking on solid ground at all. I would hover a few centimeters off the ground and just move my legs to make it _look _like I was walking. Then, when Annabella was born, my mother made me stop so that I wouldn't influence her to try the same, as she couldn't fly, you see."

"So you've really only been walking on your own for nine years?"

"Not even. After Annabella and my mother.... passed, I stopped walking and started hovering through the shadows once again. But when I arrived at Hogwarts, I decided to stop so I wouldn't draw more attention than I needed to. I guess, in retrospect, it was a pretty dumb idea." Droiture admitted.

"Perhaps. Shall we go to Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked.

"But of course, my dear." Droiture bowed and offered a hand, which Hermione took with grace and the two walked off.

_Dearest Annabella_

_I took Hermione to dinner today. We talked about all sorts of things! My God, it was fantastic. I feel so selfish, feeling this way merely because I cannot be with you. At the same time, however, I feel happy. For the first time since your unfortunate death, I feel happy! I feel like something actually means something to me! God, please, send me a sign and let me know you approve. I... could not live with myself if I let you down once again because of my own emotions. I already went through that once, and I refuse to do it again. If I must cut off all ties to the world itself, so be it. Someday, you and I will be together again, and I will do through Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I will set things right, no matter the cost._

_Eternally Yours_

_Droiture LeReve_


	6. Sick

Note: I'm typing this chapter from up in Maine, where I have recently found out that I ACTUALLY HAVE INTERNET IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE OMGWTFBBQ SAUCE YAY. So, here's chapter six. This title translates into German as "Krankes".

I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own Memoire d'un Reve.

**Chapter Six: Sick**

Droiture stirred his potion thoughtfully, taking proper care of the liquid like it was his child. Even Snape seemed impressed at his vigor for potion-making. "Keep up the good work, Mr LeReve, and perhaps you won't become a total failure after all."

"Ah-ah-ah! Shhhh! Teen-with-short-fuse-stirring-Necrosis-potion-that-will-make-all-his-dreams-come-true!" Droiture stammered in one breath, twitching sporadically. It was clear he hadn't gotten any sleep in days.

_-Annabella my sister-_

_-Every day I wonder-_

_-She is so like you-_

_-Don't leave me sister-_

_-Please sister I'm sorry-_

_-Forgive your foolish brother-_

Droiture shook those annoying little voices out of his mind as Snape raised an eyebrow, walking away.

"Droiture--"

_"What?" _Droiture snapped, flipping around. "Oh, Hermione, it's you. I apologize, what is it?"

"You've broken your stirring stick." Droiture looked down to see that indeed, his tightly-clutched hand was the only thing keeping the top half of the stick from falling into the tar-like liquid in the cauldron.

"Oh. Sorry, Hermione, I've been on edge lately." Droiture repaired the stick with a mumbled spell and continued his work.

"I noticed." Hermione said, an edge of irritation in her voice.

"I'm sorry, have I done something to anger you?" Droiture asked.

"It's nothing...." Hermione said.

"Hermione, I grew up with an angry mother and younger sister. When a woman says 'It's nothing', it means 'It's something'. What have I done?" Droiture asked.

"I.... I don't know. I want to... be there for you, and help you through this mess you've created for yourself, but you never let me in, ever! You won't tell me the whole story. You say your sister died, but you won't say why you're so keen on bringing her back. Life only truly flows in one direction--"

"--And humans aren't meant to be brought back from the dead. I know. Hermione, I used to be an alchemist before I came to Hogwarts. I know all about it. But it's not going to stop me. Whether it costs me my soul or my life, I will bring her back. You want to know the true story, do you? Fine."

Droiture looked Hermione straight in the eyes with a piercing gaze of a man who's lost it all. "I killed Annabella." He growled.

Hermione gasped in shock, dropping her textbook. "Droiture! I never--"

"It was an accident, alright? My mother and I were fighting, and I was stoned out of my mind at the time, drunk off of alcohol and drugs and the sheer adrenaline running through my veins, and I snapped, and in my haze, I killed her, but I didn't realize Annabella was in the way until it was too late. By that time, she was already dead. Yes, I have murdered in cold blood, but my dear sister... I never meant to put her in harm's way." Droiture let out a sardonic laugh. "It's ironic, really. I was so protective, so desperate to keep her safe and out of Mother's control, but it was that same desperation which took her life. That's why this potion is so dear to me. That's why I must suffer for my sins. My envy, my wrath, my greed.... The Seven Sins flow throughout these veins and control my every way of being. I am a Daemon. It is in my blood. I am deeply sorry, Hermione, and I hope to God you don't think me any less of a man for it."

Droiture reached out to touch Hermione's face, but she flinched.

"Droiture... I... How can I.... trust you now?"

"I told you the truth, did I not? You asked to know the truth and the truth is what you got. I live every day in a state of total torment, every day in a Hell of my own creation. Hermione.... my sister was the dearest thing to me. When I found out I had been the cause of her death, I went mad. I began to hear things, see things that weren't really there. After a time, my insanity subsided, replaced with horrifying, cruel sanity and clarity. Hermione, I am as sane as you are. This potion can at least give me the illusion of my beloved sister again, even if.... Even if she's an emotionless shell. At least she'll be breathing again!"

"But what if that's not what she wanted, Droiture? She must have known who you are, _what _you are!"

"You said what I was didn't matter!" Droiture snapped. "You said it was foolish to discriminate!"

"Miss Granger, Mr LeReve, if you two are so intent on having a conversation rather than working on your potion, the two of you can do it in detention!" Snape called.

"Fine." Droiture said, growling.

"What you are _doesn't _matter, not to me, but to your sister, it may have been different!" Hermione whispered.

Droiture grew to his full height. _"Don't you ever fucking dare start! You didn't know Annabella, you didn't know how pure she was, how good! Annabella was the only friend I ever had, and her beauty knew no bounds!" _Droiture screamed.

"Mr LeReve! Miss Granger! 50 points each from Gryffindor! Get out of my classroom!"

Hermione and Droiture were ushered quickly from the classroom.

Droiture glared angrily at Hermione and morphed into the shadows, disappearing before her very eyes.

". . .I... didn't mean to hurt your feelings....Droiture...."

_Annabella-_

_Hermione has betrayed my trust. I revealed to her the story, thinking I could trust her, and she turned on me. She started thinking she could tell me- me!- how you could think and feel.... She said it didn't matter to her what I was, but you... _

_You didn't think of me as a freak, did you? Not like the others.... Please.... _

_Sister, you're the world to me. I will bring you back._

_Droiture LeReve_


	7. Man in the Moon

Note: It's Midnight on a Monday (or is it Tuesday, now?) and Chapter seven is coming your way. How will this turn out? WHO KNOOOWWWWSSS???? I don't even know. I'm just taking this story in it's own direction. It's basically writing itself, I'm doing jack squat over here. Today's chapter title translates to "Mann in Mond" in German.

I do not own Harry Potter, but I do own Memoire d'un Reve.

**Chapter Seven: Man in the Moon**

"Droiture, please, I don't want our friendship to become strained. I didn't mean what I said.... Well, I... did at the time, but I realize now it was completely stupid! I... I'm very sorry." Hermione begged. Droiture merely cast her a withering look, the look of a man with nothing more to lose. He continued scrubbing cauldrons for their detentions.

"Hermione, in a single day you have completely destroyed everything I have worked for. Our Necrosis potion was discarded, I am to get a failing grade in this class unless I write a 12-foot essay _in English, _something I've never done until now, and all of my dreams I've worked towards are completely down the fucking toilet. How can you say you're sorry? Sorry? Being sorry isn't enough. Everything I've worked for in the last three years are dashed. Dashed in the dust along with my soul. But then again, perhaps I never had a proper soul to begin with." Droiture ended on an anguished whisper.

"Don't say that, Droiture. Just because our potion was discarded now, doesn't mean that we can't remake it. It will take time, but together, we can do it."

"I was under the impression you didn't approve of breaking school rules."

"Well, normally I'm not, but a few years ago I had a similar situation on my hands with Polyjuice potion. I managed to swallow my pride then, I suppose I can do it now."

"You would.... do that for me? After what I said to you? After how I treated you?" Droiture rasped, the quiet desperation in his voice almost deafening.

"Droiture, I care about you. It doesn't matter what anyone else says. I see the good in you, a man who just wants to see his sister again. I know you didn't mean to take her life. It wasn't your fault. It was your horrid mum's. Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be saying things about your mum, I've never met her...." Hermione put her hand over her mouth, blushing.

"Go right ahead. My mother was a wicked woman and I hated her. She was, indeed, horrid." Droiture agreed. He gently removed Hermione's hand from her mouth. He gently leaned forward, placing his forehead against hers. "It should be me to apologize. I was so intent on thoughts of Annabella that I never once stopped to think about _you._ You showed me true compassion when no one else would. Sure, Harry keeps Draco off my hide now, and Ronald generally leaves me the hell alone, but you were the only one who truly attempted to connect with me on a personal level. You understand. But I was so blind with anger and greed that I... forgot that you're a human being too. Can you forgive me for being so callous?"

Hermione reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Any time."

Droiture leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, conveying his emotions through a kiss. The kiss was slightly awkward and nervous, as Droiture's mouth stretched from ear to ear, and his mouthful of sharp teeth kept getting in the way of his lips, threatening to break her fragile skin. He finally pulled away, frightened that his teeth were going to hurt her.

"Perhaps... I should no longer punish myself for my own mistakes."

"Forgive yourself, Droiture. It was an accident, after all."

"But it was an accident I caused. You... don't know the whole story, Hermione...."

_**"Beast, you are to report to your quarters and stay there for your insolence. I will be in to deal with you later."**_

_**"Insolence? Bloody insolence? I haven't done anything! All I did was--"**_

_**"Corrupt the mind of my young daughter and your half-sister, Daemon."**_

_**"I didn't corrupt her fucking mind! I taught her to fucking read! I taught her to write! I taught her to ride her own damn bicycle you bought her! How is that corrupting her mind?!"**_

_**"Silence, Droiture! I make the rules in this household!"**_

_**"Bitch, I am sick and fucking tired of you ordering me around like I'm a fucking servant because you were too stupid to not go wandering around at night. I may not be a human being, but I am a rational, breathing, sentient creature and I deserve to be treated as such."**_

_**"I don't know who has been filling your head with such fairy tales, Daemon, but you are not a sentient creature. You are a Beast from Hell and you will be eradicated."**_

_**"Then fucking eradicate me before I do to you, you bitch. I am your son--"**_

_**"I refuse to acknowledge you as anything other than an annoyance in my life."**_

_**"An annoyance that YOU birthed."**_

_**"Get out of my sight, Daemon."**_

_**"No! I'm going to fucking stay here, just to spite you. You'd hate that, wouldn't you? You, the bloody perfect leader, the Seer of a new age. Well guess what. Perhaps you may have the others under your spell but I see through you."**_

_**-SLAP-**_

_**". . . . You... are in for it now, bitch! No one slaps Droiture LeReve!" **_

_**"Mommy, I hear yelling--"**_

_**"Annabella, the Daemon has gone feral--"**_

_**"Annabella? Sister? NO!"**_

"My God.... She was horrible to you just because you were different?"

Droiture said nothing. He merely scrubbed out the cauldron with a look of pained indifference. "I.... snapped and killed her. It was my own fault. Had I kept my self-control that day, Annabella would still be alive."

"Droiture, you and I will get your sister back, I swear it."

"Thank you Hermione. Your compassion knows no bounds."

_Dearest Sister_

_I feel perhaps Hermione isn't a traitor after all. She's actually the most wonderful person I've ever met. Is it wrong to say I've fallen completely and irrevocably in love with her? Please understand. She's going to help me get you back, my dearest and most beloved sister. And you and I can frolic in the flowers with Charles watching over us, just like when we were children. Hermione knows of my folly and she knows of the accident. She's going to get you back. _

_Droiture LeReve_


	8. Chase the Morning

Note: Back home in Massachusetts for the night before I have to go perform in three parades over the next two days. God. I'm gonna try to get chapter eight up before Monday but if that doesn't happen oh well. Here you go now.

I do not own Harry Potter but I do own Memoire d'un Reve and if you steal it I will eat you. Today's chapter title is not from an Oomph! song, it's from Repo!: The Genetic Opera, a movie that every single one of you should watch or I shall force you. It is amazing.

**Chapter Eight: Chase the Morning**

"Add four crushed beetles, Droiture."

"Will do, my dear." Droiture dumped the beetle bits into the cauldron, watching the contents go from murky grey to shimmering silver. Droiture's eyes lit up in anticipation.

"Alright, Droiture, that's enough for today. We have to let it stew. We've been working for months. It should be ready within the next week."

Droiture trembled, staring down at the potion that would change his life. "See, mother?" He whispered to himself, "I'm bringing her back. She'll live again. Isn't that what you wanted? Will you finally grant me passage to Heaven?"

"Droiture, what are you mumbling about?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."

_"I heard his mutterings, dearie. He's chatting on about Mummy."_

"Myrtle, would you get out of here?! I'm trying to have a personal moment! Hermione, why again did we decide to brew this damn thing in Myrtle's bathroom?"

"No one ever goes in here because of her."

_"Oh, I see how it is! Moaning Myrtle scares them all away, is that it? No one ever cares about frumpy, dumpy, old Moaning Myrtle!" _Myrtle complained, wailing, then diving back down into her toilet. Hermione hovered over it.

"Myrtle, we didn't mean that at all! I meant that the _other _children are afraid of you, but not us! We care about you very much, don't we, Droiture?" Hermione said, with a distinct tone that said say-anything-other-than-no-and-I'll-hex-your-balls-off. Droiture nodded quickly.

"Of course! Loads! You're our best friend, Myrtle, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You'd be quite a lovely girl, if you... y'know, had skin." Droiture said. Hermione glared at him. "B-b-but don't take that to mean you're not lovely because you don't! You're still a perfectly lovely... spirit. Perfectly lovely!"

_"Do you really mean that, Daemon boy?"_

"O-o-of course! Of course! You're a fantastic person, really."

Myrtle came soaring back out of her toilet and grasped Droiture in a tight hug, though, being a ghost, she didn't actually connect. Droiture pretended as if she had, though, and put his arms around where he supposed he should. Myrtle giggled and flew into her toilet, content.

"... Now what was she saying?"

"I was merely talking to myself, Hermione, think nothing of it...."

"Droiture...."

"Mother loved Annabella as much as I did. However, her love was diluted through her hate for me. When Annabella died, Mother placed a curse on me. I would live forever, crushed by my love and guilt.... unless I broke the curse somehow. See, Mummy was a witch too. She never attended Hogwarts, as she thought witchcraft was evil, but nonetheless she possessed magical power. Through her dying breath she placed a curse on me. With Annabella back, and the curse broken.... I can die in peace, my guilt alleviated."

"But Droiture! I don't want you to die!"

"I'm afraid it's inevitable. Every living creature has to die eventually. I'm not saying it'll happen as soon as Annabella is back, but at least I won't be painfully immortal either. I'll die at the ripe old age of 2-or-3 hundred like any other Daemon to exist."

"Oh... good. I thought you were going to bite the dust as soon as your sister was safe and sound."

"No, no, nothing like that, dear. Trust me, I wouldn't do that to you. The curse will be broken, not my life. If I died the moment Annabella would be brought back, what would be the point of bringing her back at all?"

"Oh. Good point. Anyway, let's get back to the common room. I wonder if Harry has found a way to sneak Draco in yet?"

"Are those two bloody dating yet? It's been painfully obvious since I met him that Harry's about as straight as the Massachusetts Turnpike."

"The Massa-what Turnpike?"

"A rotary in the United States. You're Muggle-born, I assume you know what I rotary is."

"Yes, I do. It's a circular road that---- ohhh, I get it! You made a joke about Harry's sexuality, I see. Clever."

"Yes, I do believe I was, yes. Anyway..."

"What? Oh right. Yeah, Harry's apparently been snogging Draco for some time now."

"They shag yet?" Droiture asked bluntly. Hermione blushed hotly.

"Droiture!"

"What? I'm bi-sexual, I'm allowed to ask, aren't I?"

"I-I suppose, but, why on Earth would you think _I _know about their... encounters?"

"I don't know, but I figured I'd ask anyway. Ah, Hermione, what was the bloody password?"

"I believe it's _Metatron."_

Droiture froze in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but my hearing must be failing me. Did you just say the password to get into Gryffindor tower is bloody motherfucking _Metatron?"_

"I believe so, why?"

"N... Never mind. It's not important." Droiture said.

"If you say so, Droiture. You're acting funny, you know that-- _Bloody hell, Harry! Get a room, won't you?"_

Droiture looked down and laughed. It wasn't every day the Golden Boy of Gryffindor gets caught with his shirt and tie undone, his pants off, and his boxers 'round his ankles with a fugitive Slytherin on top of him in an equal state of undress.

"We didn't know you'd just come barging in!" Draco exclaimed.

"You're in the bloody common room, dumb-arse!" Droiture said, laughing. "Nice arse, Malfoy!"

"Oh shut up, Dae--"

"Dray, just shut up and come on before Droiture shoves a poker in your arse."

"Kinky, Ri, you just think of that?"

"Come on!" Harry flushed, grabbed Draco, and scrambled upstairs with him.

"Yeah, I'm not sitting on that bloody couch." Droiture said. He sat in a chair instead.

"Oh, pooh, now there's no where else to sit. I'm not sitting on that couch either and I'm certainly not waking up that poor second-year who seems to have fainted in the other chair. That would be sort of rude..."

"Oh, bloody hell, they were there, doing _that,_ with that poor lad sitting right there? It's no wonder the little bugger fainted! Do either of them _have _brains?"

"Apparently not. Do you mind if I sit on you?"

"I don't mind at all, my dear Hermione."

Hermione walked over and seated herself on Droiture's lap sideways, her legs slung up over the left arm of the chair. Her skirt rode up just enough to reveal the hem of her panties, but she didn't seem to notice and she pulled out a pen and parchment and began writing her Transfiguration essay on water-to-wine Transfigurations. Droiture, who _did _notice Hermione's skirt hem, began playing with it absent-mindedly as his other hand began to practice Stupefying spells on the wall next to him. Holding a wand when you only have three claw-like-fingers on each hand is more difficult than it seemed, and he often got spells horribly wrong because of it. One time he almost Splinched his own leg off trying to Apparate during his test. Thank God, eh? What would have happened if--

"Droiture?"

Droiture was brought out of his little daydream by the sound of Hermione's strained voice.

"Yes, my dear?"

"You're sort of... erm... well, _molesting _me, really."

Droiture looked down to find his hand had somewhat slipped, causing him to be, indeed, molesting the girl who he graciously allowed to perch upon his lap.

"Oh, shit, Hermione, dear, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about what that hand was doing at all! Good God, I am so sorry." Droiture quickly removed his hand, only to have Hermione tentatively grasp his finger. It was a bit odd, as Droiture's hand was so much bigger than Hermione's, that she could really only fit her hand around one or two of his fingers at a time, sort of like a child to a parent.

"I... never said I objected...." Hermione whispered, almost as if she were scandalized at her own words.

"Really now? Sweet, law-abiding Hermione Granger has a darker side? I never would have guessed...."

Their lips connected roughly, jet-black meshing with perfect peach. Droiture's teeth caught on Hermione's lower lip, but she only responded by pushing her lips further into his, tearing her lower lip cleanly in two. Droiture tasted her blood and quickly pulled away, inspecting the damage. "Shite, Hermione, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. It doesn't hurt..." Hermione kissed him again, wrapping her hands around his back and head. She turned her body so she was sitting perfectly astride him, straddling his waist. Droiture's arms were at her waist, holding tight as he fought the incredible urge to buck up into her perfectly rounded hips. Droiture lifted her up by her waist, her legs wrapped around his stomach, and, without breaking the kiss, began to float in the air. He floated the two of them up and over the stairs leading up to the girls' beds, because he knew that stepping on the stairs would result in them turning into a slide and forcing him back down again.

The couple collapsed on Hermione's bed.

_Sister, Sister_

_Hermione and I are together now. Or so it seems. I'm afraid I may have been a bit rough on her, however. I woke up this morning and she was covered in love-bites, and to be perfectly honest I don't remember half of what went on last night due to my haze of lust. I hope I didn't hurt her too badly, however. Annabella, I am so in love with her. It was also very funny. I woke up this morning and her friend Parvati (or was it the other sister who's name eludes me? I don't remember, they're twins, after all), was hovering over me, asking how fun a time we had last night, as she could hear us through the bloody curtains! She almost called McGonagall on us but I persuaded her not to (with chocolate, of course). She's basically being a mob boss right now, but as long as I pay her a box of Honeydukes chocolate a month, she promises not to tell. I've already told Hermione about this deal, so she knows I'll be giving the damn girl chocolate from now on. Whatever, let the Patil girl have her fun. As long as I get to see you again, my beloved sister._

_In Love At Last_

_Droiture LeReve_


	9. Blind Ambition

Note: Chapter Nine. God, I am way too tired for this, but BE HAPPY. I'm doing this anyway in an attempt to finish the first fanfic I've finished since that Pokemon one a while back. You remember. The one that sucked yet I still get people reviewing it telling me how great it was. Face it, people, I'm a terrible writer. Jeez.

Today's chapter title is the title of a song from Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie's soundtrack. Yes, I am going into the 12th grade and I still love Yu-Gi-Oh!. Am I a nerd? Yes. Do I care? Hell no. However, 5-D sucks and deserves a special all-new layer of Hell. GX too. Yeccchh. Doma series FTW!

I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own Memoire d'un Reve. If you don't know what that is, go back a few chapters and figure it out. If you steal my property without my permission, I will not be pleased.

**Chapter Nine: Blind Ambition**

Droiture breathed deeply the sweet scent of success. Was it success he smelled? Or was it merely the finished Necrosis potion that lay before him in a 24-karat gold flask with shimmering sapphire inlays, ivory stopper, and a real leather strap, a leftover from dear old Mum? Droiture's eye glittered with the reflection of precious metals. "Hermione..." he whispered, "We've done it. It's in my- our grasp." He was clearly ecstatic, but he was confused as to how to express his ecstasy.

Hermione smiled, seeing Droiture so happy. It made her happy. Through his short time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she'd found herself deeply in love with this strange Daemon, a man born of hatred, and treated like scum all his life, yet still retaining that last shred of good that would make him do something like this. However, she couldn't help feeling a little bit envious of Annabella. Once she was back, would Droiture forget about her? About Hermione? About everything they'd been through, everything they'd done? She couldn't let Droiture see. He'd be mad... "It'll make all your dreams come true, love." She said with a false air of congratulations.

Droiture saw straight through her. "Love, I won't forget you. Annabella is my sister, but you... I love you. Once the curse is broken we'll be free to live a life together. Everything you've done for me will not be forgotten."

Hermione let a tear run down her face. "But... You loved her so much. She was the world to you. How can I compare?"

"Well, love, that's the thing. You can't. No one can compare to Annabella."

Hermione was truly hurt. She turned her back, letting tears run freely.

"Wait, Hermione, I'm not finished." Hermione looked over her shoulder. "No one can compare to Annabella, just as no one can compare to you. I realize now that you're truly two different people, though I love you both for exactly the same reasons. No one can compare to Annabella because she was my sister, a little bit of Me who could live on inside her and help her grow. No one can compare to you because you showed me true love and friendship from the moment I arrived here at Hogwarts. So truly, no one can compare to Annabella...." Droiture took Hermione into his arms, "But even Annabella cannot compare to you, my love."

Droiture picked the flask up off the sink and tucked it into his vest. "Shall we?" He asked.

"It's now or never." Hermione agreed, lifting a spade.

Seven hours, a fretful butler, a ragged step-father with nothing left to lose and six feet in the ground later, Droiture's spade hit wood. His sister's fine casket. He pulled the coffin out of the ground with Hermione's help (though he really didn't need it). "Hermione.... this is it."

"Droiture, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, once the curse is broken, the potion won't last for much longer, and there may not be much of her left to re-animate anyway." Hermione said.

"The curse would have kept her body intact. She should be as the day we buried her, three terrible, long, painful years ago."

"But Droiture, I'm telling you, this can't end well--"

"Bollocks, we spent six months brewing this, I'm not wasting it."

Droiture pushed aside the lid. Hermione saw Annabella for the first time, serene in the coffin as if she were sleeping, a sweet, innocent little six-year-old girl. Light orange ringlets pulled into pigtails on either side of her head, a black dress with white lace that looked like it were made for an exquisite porcelain doll, little lacy shoes and socks to match, and a family crest on the pendant around her neck. Droiture dropped to his knees in front of the coffin, gently reaching towards the corpse. His claw made contact with her skin and he shivered. "She's... so cold."

"The dead are cold, Droiture. There's no blood pumping through them."

"Even as a Daemon dies, his heart still beats. If a Daemon's heart were to stop beating, for any reason, even death, it's considered to be a prologue to death. To a Daemon, death is only a long, eternal rest." Droiture replied.

Droiture pulled out the golden flask full of potion. Hermione held open Annabella's little mouth, still lined with crooked baby teeth, as Droiture poured the potion down.

Annabella's body began to move.

She sat up and looked around, as if confused as to why she was sitting in a wooden box in a cemetery. "Annabella?" Droiture asked. Annabella seemed to recognize her name, or perhaps Droiture's voice, and jerked her head slightly in his direction. Her eyes were empty and cold, devoid of soul.

"Annie, it's me, Brother. Don't you remember me?" Droiture asked. Annabella was making funny gasping sounds, as if she couldn't remember how her lungs properly worked. "Annie?"

Suddenly, as if a cold, fell wind of death swept across the land, Annabella began to scream. Her scream was deafening and heartbreaking as her flesh turned the color of bile and began to rot from her bones.

Droiture was forced to watch in horror as his sister's eyeballs fell from their sockets, her nose fell off, her cheeks became riddled with holes, and her hair fell from her head. Droiture heaved over and vomited violently in horror. Hermione could only watch as her prediction came true. Once the curse was broken, the magic keeping Annabella's body intact wore off. Maggots ran rampant through her flesh, eating holes through her. Her innards were spilling out all over the casket, and blood poured everywhere. Droiture was sobbing and vomiting blood, clutching his stomach and crying. It was a pitiful sight, too pitiful for Hermione.

"Annabella! Annabella! -hwarlf- My sister, what is happening to you! Oh God!"

"Droiture, come now! We can't stay here!" Hermione said.

"No! I won't leave her!"

"She's a corpse, Droiture!"

Droiture grabbed pitifully at the clumps of gooey red hair, clumped together with bits of flesh, hoping to keep some forever. "Annie, Annie! How? How did this happen?!"

"I tried to tell you, Droiture, but you wouldn't listen. Once the curse keeping your sister intact was broken, what could have been? She's all rotted now, look."

With a final death rattle Annabella fell back into her coffin, a skeleton at last. The disgusting gore that Droiture held turned to dust in his hand and drifted off into the wind.

"Annie.... God, what have I done? I could have lived on.... I could have kept her intact, here, and instead I was selfish.... I wanted to see her so badly, to break this curse, that I've forever tarnished her.... Spoiled, she is.... Nothing but bones.... I was a fool.... Greed.... Pride..... Envy.... Wrath.... Sloth.... Gluttony.... Lust....The Seven Sins live on within me, and feed me, because I am their vessel as they are my captains. I live by them and they live within me. How can you look me in the face, dear Hermione? I was a fool."

"We were both fools. Your sister would have wanted you to live on to remember her, don't you think? But what's in the past is done, Droiture, and there's no changing that. Live the rest of your life in happiness, and live each day as if it were your last."

"You're right... I've made a grave mistake this day, but it's nothing I cannot fix. Come, Hermione, we must get to Hogwarts. Leave Charles and Richard to handle this mess. I can't stand to look at it any longer."

_Dear Annabella_

_Are you alright in Heaven? I'm very sorry I couldn't have seen you for longer. You looked so innocent, so sweet, as if you were merely sleeping. All I wanted was happiness, I suppose. I am so very sorry. What we did tonight was a grave mistake, one that we will spend the rest of our lives remembering and regretting. I've had past experience breaking the rules, you know that. But nothing ever compared to what we did tonight. We brewed a potion illegally, flew to America, dug up your grave, and tarnished the immaculately-kept corpse of a tiny little girl. We've desecrated your tomb. I'm not one for religion, usually, but I've heard that's quite a rude thing to do. Well, in any case, the curse placed on you is broken, and now we can all live on happily ever after. Is Heaven a pretty place? Is it filled with clouds and happiness? Is it a place where you can look down and see the others, and watch them go by as if watching a play? Is each era an act in that play? Are we all merely pawns in a chess game, each of us with a purpose? Will anyone ever truly discover their purpose? Was I meant to be a pawn? A Bishop? Or the powerful Queen? Only time can say, I suppose, and I hope you don't mind a letter from someone new. I figured it would be a nice change of pace for you. And for Him._

_Sincerely_

_Hermione Granger_

_P.S. Please look after Droiture, I do love him oh, so very much. _


End file.
